


Through the Eyes of An Ignorant Witch

by eggsinsunnyside



Series: Circle of Imagination [2]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Henry "Joey save me please" Ross, Joey "casually does illegal magic" Drew, Magic, Two animals ( or one ) dies in this, Witch!Henry, Witchcraft, minor original characters, or basically the au where witches are a secret society like back in harry potter days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 04:24:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14634030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggsinsunnyside/pseuds/eggsinsunnyside
Summary: When Henry was four, his first drawing was a cat. He named him Benny.When Henry was five, Benny began to move in the paper meow silently and brush against his fingers whenever he touched the cat on paper.





	Through the Eyes of An Ignorant Witch

**Author's Note:**

> Note: The witches here don't follow some stuffs that are typical of witches.

When Henry was four, his first drawing was a cat. He named him Benny.

When Henry was five, Benny began to move in the paper. He meowed silently and brush against his fingers whenever he touched the cat on paper.

Henry adored Benny.

When Henry was six, he lost Benny in the rain. He left his window open, letting rain water splash onto his desk where Benny’s paper was, and poor Benny drowned in rainwater while Henry was away. Henry buried Benny in the backyard and didn’t stop crying for over a week.

He never drew another cat again.

When Henry was seven, he got a puppy. Henry named him Bernie. His mother initially protested against the adoption, but his father reasoned with her by claiming Bernie was a guard dog.

A very cuddly guard dog, Henry thought while Bernie covered his face with dog slobber. 

When Henry was eight, a boy named Joey Drew moved into the neighborhood. He was around Henry’s age but none of the other kids liked him very much. His mother told him to stay away from Joey, because Joey Drew was a weird boy who caused nothing but trouble for everyone.

Henry listened at first, he shied away from Joey whenever the boy was near his location. However, one could only avoid the fate of meeting Joey Drew for so long and fate had it that they were to partner up for a school project.

Joey Drew, Henry would later learn, was a dreamer at heart.

Whenever he wasn’t paying attention in class, he would dream up a world in his head that abided by his laws. Nobody quite understood his fantasies though and that was perhaps what made Joey Drew so impossible to understand to everyone.

Everyone but Henry.

When Joey spoke, Henry listened. When Joey explained, Henry imagined. When Joey smiled, Henry would smile back.

It did not take long before Henry Ross became Joey Drew’s only best friend and voice of reason. The terrifying duo of dreamers who terrorized the neighborhood with their antics.

When Henry was nine, Joey gave Henry a sketchbook for his birthday present.

“You like drawing a lot, right? This would be perfect for someone like you.” He explained with a cheerful smile.

Henry stared at the sketchbook blankly before a small smile crept on his face. “Hey, want to see something cool?”

Joey nodded eagerly as Henry opened his new sketchbook, quickly handing Henry a nearby pencil. For someone who did not pay attention in class on a regular basis, Joey was intensely focused on Henry who was now drawing a round cat like figure on the page.

“Okay, almost there…” Henry mumbled to himself before beaming at Joey and faced the page to his best friend, “Now watch.”

Ten seconds flew by and Joey was about to ask Henry what exactly he was meant to see when the drawing moved. It was no longer in the rigid pose Henry had scribbled it as and was happily waving a hand at Joey.

Joey watched them in delighted fascination and smiled gleefully at Henry, “Henry, you never told me your drawings were magical!”

“Magical?” Henry frowned curiously.

“Yes, magical. Nobody can do this without magic.” Joey answered, still grinning. “This is amazing Henry! How’d you do it?”

Henry blushed from the compliment. “I dunno, Joey. Could do it ever since I can remember.”

“Well now I’m really glad I got you that drawing book then.” Joey giggled, patting Henry’s shoulder, “Dad said I should’ve gone for somethin’ bigger because you’re my best friend, but I know you don’t like big stuffs to haul around.”

“You know me too well.” Henry teased, sticking out his tongue.

“What’s he meant to be anyway? And what about his name? What’s his name going to be?” Joey asked, pointing to the little but living drawing in Henry’s sketchbook.

Henry glanced down at the drawing who stared back at him expectantly, “I dunno. He’s meant to be a cat, but I don’t really know what name I should give him.”

Henry’s face became crestfallen upon remembering the last time he tried to draw a cat, something which Joey noticed.

“Well then tell me his name when you do find a good name then.” Joey quickly said, and grinned as wide as the Cheshire cat, “Now that I know you can make your drawings move, you definitely have to fill out that book all the way to the end.”

“I will, Joey.” Henry was quick to laugh, his frown giving into a smile and quietly shutting the book.

“Swear on it?” Joey grinned widely. “Make an oath, Henry.”

Henry nods, pressing the sketchbook against his chest and said, “I, Henry Ross, promise that I will fill this sketchbook with all my drawings until there are no more pages left.”

To the blind eyes, it would’ve appeared as two kids simply making a promise to each other. To the two boys though, they could feel something being solidified and the importance of the promise being established between them.

When Henry was ten, he lost Bernie. Kids from school hated Joey and by association, Henry as well.

So, to anger Joey, they kidnapped Henry and his dog when he was walking home from school one day.

Henry remembers screaming out Bernie’s name while the pup was beaten to death by sneering children and cried like a baby when Joey found him.

Joey whispered comforting words to him while Henry cried for his dead Bernie.

They both gave Bernie a burial before going home. 

People had considered Henry and Joey to be inseparable.

After Bernie’s death however, they found that it was almost impossible to separate the two from each other willingly. They almost stuck to each other like glue at this point.

Joey never strayed too far from Henry’s side, always keeping an eye out for the children who hated them both and growled at anyone who came too close for comfort.

It came to the point that even adults who tried to talk to Henry without Joey nearby would be at the receiving end of Joey’s irritation.

Some of the adults addressed their concerns to Henry’s parents, complain what a troublemaker quiet little Henry had become when he met Joey Drew and how strangely close they were to each other.

Nothing they said though would change the way Henry treated Joey Drew. Not even a stern talking from his mother could deter his loyalty to his best friend.

And Joey wanted to cement that fact.

 “You know, I’ve been to your house before, but you’ve never been to mine.” Joey said to him one day while they were hanging out, “You should come over tonight.”

Joey’s house was much larger and spacious than Henry’s, and Henry had a blast exploring the many rooms. Joey even showed him one of the room that was essentially a library, with bookshelves in abundances and the walls having inbuilt shelves to accommodate more books.

There was even room in the middle for a table and a chair for people to read in.

“Why does your pa need this many books?” Henry asked curiously, pulling out one of the books that stuck out from the nearest shelf.

It felt old in his hand, his fingers brushing against all the little wrinkles in the leather cover and the edges of the papers yellowed from age.

“My dad’s a big bookworm.” Joey answered nonchalantly. “Look for a book called ‘The Illusion of Living’ by the way. We’re going to need that.”

“Need that for what?”

“You’ll see.” Was Joey’s cryptic reply.

Henry didn’t press for details. He trusted Joey in whatever scheme he was cooking up for the two of them.

“Hey Joey, is this it?” Henry held out the titled book towards Joey’s direction.

Joey’s face lit up immediately once he saw what was in Henry’s hand, “Yes, that’s the book! Give it to me-“

Henry barely complained when Joey snatched the book out of his hands and flipped open its contents.

“Okay, let’s see here…” Joey murmured, tracing his fingers over the aged lines.

“You still haven’t told me what’s this for, Joey.” Henry reminded idly, peeking over Joey’s shoulder in an attempt to see whatever Joey was reading but most of the writings were illegible to him.

“This is going to keep us safe, Henry.” Joey explained, pointing to a mostly faded pentagram on the yellowed paper, “This will fix us up whenever we get hurt. If someone hurts us, it’s going to undo whatever was hurt.”

“Wh- Couldn’t you have used that for Bernie?”

“I didn’t think that those idiots would go that far,” Joey cursed quietly, looking up at Henry’s hurt face, “Dad said not to do this kind of stuff outside of home either, and you know how he is with his rules.”

Henry nodded in agreement. Mr Drew was a nice man but incredibly strict with his rules. Any rule breakers were punished harshly by his hands.

“But now we know you can’t trust anyone but each other. They’re all sinners who just want to hurt us all.” Joey continued, grabbing a chalk from the library’s table. “I’m not going to let that happen, not while I’m still here.”

“Won’t you get in trouble with your pa though?” Henry asked as he watched Joey clear the floor of objects.

“Not if he doesn’t find out.” Joey said, handing Henry the chalk once the floor was clear, “Can you draw the circle thing on the floor while I go grab the stuffs we need? Just follow the picture on the book. It’s not that much different from drawin’ right?”

“I can do that.” Henry nodded, and Joey scampered off to locate whatever objects he needed for the activity.

By the time Joey came back, Henry had finished drawing the circle to the exact detail on the book. Granted there were a few wonky lines, but Henry managed to draw over them mostly by using the book as a ruler.

“What’s in the jar?” Henry asked, noticing Joey returning with three objects in his arms; a packet of candles, a large ornate scissor and a jar filled with black tar like substance.

“This?” Joey held out the jar, “It’s something that my pa uses for stuffs like this.”

“Yeah but what is it?” Henry repeated with a huff. “It looks like ink.”

“How would I know? I hadn’t touched this stuff until now.” Joey shrugged at his friend, unscrewing the lid and taking a sniff at it, “Kind of smells weird.”

Joey set the jar down at the center of Henry’s circle and grabbed the book from Henry. He flicked through the pages, quickly reading through the instructions. He gestured for Henry to stand next to him near the black filled jar and held up the scissor.

“You ready for this, Henry?” Joey asked, holding up the scissor, “We only need a few drops of our blood, so then the stuffs know that it needs to fix us.”

Henry glanced at the scissors nervously, though he held his hand out to Joey. “Don’t make it hurt too much?”

“I’ll try not to.” Joey said, opening the scissor and hovering the blade over the palm of Henry’s hand. “Three… Two… One.”

Henry hissed out at the sharp pain when the scissor’s blade made a neat cut on his hand, his blood already trickling out of the newly made wound.

Joey made a face at the sight, shakily lowering the scissor and looked almost scared of Henry’s hand.

Henry quickly tipped his hand to the jar, squeezing his hand to let more blood ooze out of the wound and drip into the jar. Joey joined him shortly, bleeding hand next to Henry’s and watched the red liquid be consumed by the black.

Henry had been entranced by the sight of watching his blood drop into the black liquid that he hadn’t noticed the black slowly dying his world, or the cold creeping into his body until it was washing over him.

It spread in his body, taking away the warmth and replacing it with something colder than ice. Henry could hear his own heartbeat thrumming in his ear with an irregular pace, gradually getting slower and slower.

Then the sensation left just as quickly as it entered Henry, leaving the boy positively staggered on his feet.

“Henry? Henry are you okay?” Joey’s voice brought him back to the world, his best friend looking over him with concern. “Oh no, did I mess something up?”

“N-No, I’m alright Joey.” Henry assured, one hand rubbing over the spot where his heart was still definitely beating, “Just felt a little woozy, that’s all. What did you do?”

“Just made sure that nobody can hurt you anymore, Henry,” Joey held out a hand towards Henry, “Now that it’s done, there’s no separating us now. There’s no Joey Drew without Henry Ross anymore.”

When Henry felt an itch on his right arm, he rolled up the sleeve to find an upside-down pentagram drawn on his skin. “Um, Joey? Did you draw on me while I wasn’t looking or something?”

“I’m flattered that you think I can draw on you without you noticing, but I didn’t.” Joey rose a brow.

“Then where did this come from?” Henry showed his friend the pentagram.

“Oh that.” Joey’s eyes brightened slightly at seeing the pentagram, “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a sign sayin’ that you’re with me now. Don’t think too much about it.”

When Henry was eleven, he received a letter that invited him to a local meeting for children. His mother encouraged him to go, he needs to be social again with the other children in town.

“Decide if you will go or not by tonight.” His mother told him as she passed him the letter to read over and over again, for however many times he needed to make his decision. 

Henry does the only thing he knows at that time; he went to Joey and asked for his answer. 

The answer? Joey tears up the letter into pieces.

“You don’t wanna ever go there.” Joey tells him before Henry can make a fuss over the loss. “I been to one of those meetings and trust me, it is nothing like they say. Over there is nothing but nasty, bossy no-nonsense wannabe adults.”

“Are they like Mrs Umbridge?” Henry asked him curiously, the letter in his mind all but forgotten. 

Everyone in town knows Mrs Umbridge, the rotten lady down the lane who hates children like they’re maggots. Even worse is her daughter that hates Joey Drew and Henry too. Henry makes sure he and Joey never goes near either of the Umbridges unless it’s for a prank.

Joey nodded feverishly. “All of them. Every single one of ‘em , they’ll all give you the nasty eyes because they don’t like any children. They’ll just slap on a plastic smile and pretend to like you.”

“I don’t want to go to a place like that!” Henry exclaimed fearfully.

“Don’t you worry. As long as you don’t want to go, then they won’t take you." Joey beamed cheerfully at Henry, squeezing his friend’s hand. “Besides, I’ll never let any of them hurt you. They’d have to go through me before they can get to you.”

When Henry got home, his mother asked where the letter was. He tells them that he doesn’t want to go. His mother tries to argue but his father stops her. 

“If he doesn’t want to go, then he won’t go.” His father said to his mother with a strange look.

When Henry was twelve, his parents made him sit down in the dining room for a talk.

“Henry, your mother and I have been talking,” his father started slowly, “And it’s time we believe that you know the truth.”

“What’s this about?” Henry asked warily, alternating his stares between his parents.

“Henry, you’re a witch.” His mother said, clasping her hands with Henry’s own.

“I’m a witch?” Henry repeated quietly.

His mother nodded in confirmation, “Our family comes from a line of witches from ancient times. Of course, that doesn’t mean we’re the only witches in town. There are many other witches here too. Mrs Umbridge is one of them, for instance.”

“Mrs Umbridge is a witch too?”

“And many more, Henry.” His father added with a small smile.

“Why tell me this now though?” Henry asked puzzledly.

Both of his parents glanced at each other, silently arguing who would have to tell him the details. Eventually his mother surrendered to the responsibility.

“All witches must belong to a coven. It’s part of the rules here, that any stray witches should be inducted into covens, as to prevent accidental magic from taking place.” She paused to let the information sink into Henry’s head before continuing, “Since you’re only twelve, you won’t need to be involved with a coven just yet.”

Henry stared down at the table idly, thoughts running through his head. Witches were magical. Joey said his drawings were magical. Nobody could replicate his drawings.

… How did he not see this coming?

“I’m so stupid.” Henry groaned to himself, burying his face into his hands, “I should’ve known- “

“You couldn’t really have known-“His mother started.

“My drawings, ma.”

“What about your drawings?”

“There’s a reason I kept drawin’ so often.” Henry grabbed his sketchbook and opened its contents for his parents to see.

Pages and pages of everything that Henry drew in charcoal and ink, all the details of the real world translated into the papers of the sketchbook. But that wasn’t what caught his parent’s attention.

In every single page, Bendy was there. He’d teleport between every flip of the page, strolling in the environment with the life that simple drawings did not have, and he would always smile brightly at his creator and his parents.

“How long...?”

“Since I can remember, ma.” Henry said sheepishly, fiddling with his fingers.

“Have you shown this to anyone else?” His father asked sternly.

“Only Joey, pa.” Henry said.

“Make sure to keep it that way.” His father advised, heaving out a relieved sigh, “Not everyone likes witches around here. Some of them would do… dangerous things to witches if they’re caught. It’s one of the reason why covens are important. They keep witches out of danger.”

“I’ll tell Joey to keep it a secret then.”

Henry did exactly that the next time he saw Joey.

They met up in their regular hiding spot and thankfully, Joey hadn’t thrown a huge fuss at learning Henry’s heritage. If anything, he took it in stride.

“Who would’ve guessed that you’re a witch, Henry.” Joey said teasingly.

“Honestly, was it to be expected?” Henry replied with a shrug. “I didn’t know witches exist until ma and pa told me.”

“I mean, it makes sense now. You can make your drawings move like real people,” Joey pointed out and hummed, “Actually now I think about it, you’re the only one who can do that. I haven’t seen anyone else able to do it.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.” Henry nodded, idly playing with the edges of his sketchbook.

“Have you thought a name for that cat thing you drew years ago by the way?” Joey asked curiously, “You never told me his name.”

Henry stared at Joey blankly before realization crossed his mind. He had honestly forgotten about it and Joey was expecting a name by now. Several names crossed Henry’s mind before he finally decided on one to give to his unnamed cat doodle. 

“Bendy.” 

Joey looked up to him from his desk with a puzzled frown. “Who?”

“Bendy.” Henry repeated, holding up his sketchbook where the dancing devil stood, looking quite proud. “His name is Bendy.”

“You spent three years thinking up a name for him?”

“Maybe.” Henry had the decency to look sheepish, turning the page to reveal another character. “This is Bendy’s friend.”

“He looks like a wolf.” Joey commented, staring long and hard at the drawn page. 

“He’s a dog!” Henry puffs up his cheek at the correction. 

“A wolf to me.” Joey smiled cheekily at Henry, “So what’s his name?”

Henry shrugged, flushing slightly in embarrassment, “I haven’t thought one yet.”

“At this rate you’ll take forever to come up with names.” Joey shakes his head and points at the wolfish character. “His name’s Boris.”

Boris’ tail wags at the name and Henry glances down at the character with a smile, “I think he likes it. You’re Boris from now on. Bendy and Boris, best friend.” 

“Almost like us.” Joey remarked, giggling at the similarity. 

“Yeah.” Henry chuckled back, “Almost.”

When Henry was thirteen, some of children in the neighborhood found his and Joey’s hangout spot. What was meant to be another one of their time to scheme for a prank was ruined when Joey discovered Tommy, Harold and Frank.

“Hey, that’s our spot! You can’t take it!” Joey hissed, ready to march up to the culprits.

“It’s ours now!” Tommy sneered at them, his pudgy face twisting into an ugly jeer.

“This place was bein’ wasted with weirdos like you anyway.” Harold added with his pretentious smirk. “It’s a good spot too, away from all the adults and got plenty of lil niches to hide stuff in.”

“Go find another place to spread your weirdness in.” Frank heckled, sending Joey a rude finger gesture.

Joey swore as loudly as his lungs would let out and ran in to fight the three boys. Henry dropped his sketchbook and ran to hold back the furious Joey.

What was meant to be a little scuffle ended up being an all-out brawl when Henry got punched in the face by Frank and got a bloody nose.

It was Joey’s enraged screaming that eventually attracted the attention of the police to their location. When the police arrived, they did not expect to see an injured Henry Ross trying to stop his bleeding nose while Joey was beating Harold and Tommy black and blue. Frank was trying to pull Joey off his friends and it was only luck that Joey hadn’t elbowed the boy in the stomach in his thrashing.

Needless to say, all of the boys were forced to break up the fight and taken home to be scolded by their mothers.

Henry was let off easier as his mother fussed over his nose bleeding, and Joey eventually came by to vouch for Henry’s innocence, as well as returning his dropped sketchbook.

“I didn’t mean to get you hurt.” Joey said quietly as Henry’s mother handed him a hot towel for his bruises.

“It’s alright Joey. I wanted to get a hit on Franky for a long time anyway.” Henry assured, “We should probably find a new spot though. I don’t think Tommy will let us be alone in peace after finding our place and you breaking his arm.”

“He was asking for it!” Joey protested indignantly.

“Whether he was askin’ for it or not, you shouldn’t have gone and broken his arm, Joey.” Henry’s mother sternly reprimanded, hands on her hips. “If Henry gets hurt like this more often, I won’t let you see him again.”

“Ma!”

“Don’t you worry Mrs Ross, I won’t let Henry get hurt again.” Joey said, staring up at the woman. “You have my promise, Mrs Ross.”

“I’m not a baby, I’m old ‘nough to take care of myself.” Henry rolled his eyes at his friend’s antic. “If anything, I have to take care of you, Joey Drew with all the pranks you do.”

“Hey, you do them too. You’re just as big of a troublemaker as I am.”

Joey hissed in pain when Henry lightly punched his bruise in retaliation.

When Henry was fourteen, his mother had him attend to one of the children meeting, much to his chagrin. It was set during the evening and Joey had no idea Henry was attending, leaving the poor boy to go by himself.

“You need to get out more and socialize with the other kids.” His mother had told him while walking him to the building where the meeting was set.

“But I have Joey and my drawings!” Henry protested lightly, tightening his grip on his sketchbook.

“Joey won’t be around forever, and drawings does not mean they’re your friends.” His mother sighed exasperatedly. “Henry, remember what I told you about covens? You’re at the age when you need to be in one. That’s the point behind this meeting.”

“What if I don’t want to be in one?” Henry huffed.

“You’ll be found by the witch hunters and you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

When she saw that Henry was still reluctant to attend, she knelt down in front of Henry and cupped his face between her hands.

“I know you’re still the shy little boy, but these children are like you. They won’t be the only ones in your coven too, you’ll have a senior witch to supervise them too.”

Henry doesn’t believe her. Children always found him weird and never spoke with him, until Joey Drew did.

But he only nods obligingly to his mother’s words in response.   

The first thing he does once his mother leaves is find the furthest corner of the room that is far away from the noisy children. Most of them were looked about Henry’s age, though there were some who looked a bit older.

Henry didn’t recognize most of the faces in the sea of people. Had he really been that reclusive since he became friends with Joey?

As a few more children, Henry stayed in his corner watching the crowd uninterestedly. He wanted to leave and find Joey. Talk to him and make fun of this stupid gathering that his mother made him attend.

Henry opened his sketchbook and was greeted by Bendy’s smiling face, “Hey Bendy.”

The little dancing demon waved back at Henry and stared at him inquisitively.

“Ma sent me to some witch gathering spot. To be part of a coven.” Henry answered the demon’s silent question, “I don’t really want to be a part of a coven though. I’ve got Joey and you, after all. You guys got to be enough but my ma doesn’t think that.”

As if offended by the assumption, Bendy huffed his cheek and folded his arm.

“Yeah, I know bud, it sucks a lot. I wish Joey was at least here though. He’d make this a lot more fun for us.”

Henry had been too interested in talking with Bendy that he almost didn’t notice one of the older boys approach him until the boy coughed loudly.

“Huh?” Henry squeaked, slamming his sketchbook shut in reflex and snapped his head up, “H-Hello there?”

Wow he was jittery. Joey would’ve laughed at him for how meek he sounded. Bendy too.

“Hey.” The older boy greeted uninterestedly, sitting down next to Henry, “Mind if I sit with you? The people here are all idiots.”

“You’re already…” Henry gestured to the older boy, “Sitting. But I don’t mind. It’s a lot quieter here than out there, right? I’m Henry, by the way.”

“Mhm.” The older boy nodded slowly, “Sammy Lawrence.”

“Sammy Lawrence?” Henry repeated, familiarity settling in his head, “Isn’t that the name of the father in the chapel?”

“That’s my father, yeah.” Sammy replied, fiddling with the straps of his overalls. “He’s also the guy who decided that we needed to gather all the special kids in town every year.”

“Special kids?” Henry echoed, “You mean witches?”

“Sure, witches. Special kids. Same thing.” Sammy waved him off offhandedly, “Doesn’t make this any less pointless though.”

“My ma said that covens are important for keepig’ us witches away from the witch hunters.” Henry pointed out. “That’s why all the adults are gathering the kids to join the covens.”

“That’s what they all say,” Sammy rolled his eyes and leaned in closer to Henry’s ear, “It’s actually to keep us away from magic they don’t like. Make sure that none of us are partaking any sort of magic that’ll have the witch hunters out for us.”

Henry’s eyes widened a little at the revelation, “Magic like?”

“Blood magic is one of ‘em.” Sammy answered, pressing a finger to his wrist, “Any witches that can use blood magic are able to mess with life, which is a big no for the older witches. They say it’s dangerous, and it’s the big reason why witch hunters exist.”

 “If you ask me though, I think blood magic isn’t that bad though.” Sammy admitted, ignoring Henry’s incredulous stare, “It sounds really handy. What I’m sayin’ here, most adults here would be calling it blasphemy and all that. But blood magic does things to the body that normal stuffs can’t. You could be fixing all sorts of problem that doctors can’t fix with their medicines or witches with their potions. You could cure the impossible sickness that people can’t solve forever.”

“If it’s that helpful, why is everyone so scared of it?”

“Beats me.” Sammy shrugged, “These old witches are scared of a lot of things. They don’t like people going off on their own or doing things they don’t agree with.”

Before Henry could come up with a reply for Sammy, he was interrupted by an elderly man.

“Children!” The man called out, one hand held up to silence the crowd, “Today is another year for our yearly Coven meetings where we gather our fellow witches today, and welcome those who have become of age.”

“Who’s that guy?” Henry asked curiously, pointing to the announcer.

“Oh him?” Sammy eyed the man dismissively, “He’s not the guy who’s in charge of our town’s coven.”

“That doesn’t tell me a lot of things.”

“He’s basically an unimportant guy who wants to feel like he’s important, Henry.” Sammy drawls out, standing up, “I got to go find my coven now or else the high priest will chat my ear off about being a bad example to younger witches.”

He turned to briefly glance down at Henry.

“Try not to get involved with the really idiotic ones. You seem like an okay guy.” Sammy said to him before disappearing into the crowd of people.

Henry had entertained the idea of following Sammy – he knew about covens and tolerated Henry’s presence – when one of the senior witches grabbed his arm.

“Young boy, what are you doing here by yourself? Shouldn’t you be with your coven?” She asked with a stern frown.

Either she ignored or was ignorant of Henry’s confusion, because she began to drag Henry out of the corner he was happily hiding himself in.

“Honestly children these days, they just don’t respect traditions the way they should anymore. Especially you boy. Don’t think that you could get away from this gathering just by hiding, like that troublesome Drew brat.”

Drew? As in, Joey Drew? What did Joey have to do with this?

“Boy, are you listening to me? I bet you’re just thinking I’m some lady rambling on about my days.” The lady grumbled, flashing a menacing glare at Henry that made him shrink back.

Henry suddenly wanted to leave. He had a really bad feeling about the gathering. 

“Are you going to tell me which coven you come from already?” The lady demanded with a snappish tone, “The Old Songs? The Holy Risen? Out with it, boy!”

For all of Henry’s experience with dealing with impatient adults, he had not met an adult who was like this lady ever. So, when his voice failed to spit out a response fast enough, she muttered something that Henry did not catch and yanked his right sleeve up – right where the upside-down pentagram was inked in his skin.

She released Henry’s arm like it was cursed and let out a high-pitched scream that quickly silenced the people around them.

“B-Blood witch!” She shrieked, fear filling her entire being as she stared down at Henry with wide eyes, “He’s a blood witch!” She pointed an accusing finger at the pentagram on Henry’s arm.

The crowd immediately erupted into panicked murmurs, a massive collective of eyes watching Henry and his every move. Henry hastily covered the pentagram by slapping his hand over it, confusion and fear muddling his thoughts.

Why were they looking at him like that?

Why were they whispering to each other with fear in their eyes?

Why were they looking at him like he was going to hurt them?

Henry had been too far into shock to notice that his wrist was being yanked on, dragging him forcefully out of the scene and led him up to a closed off room. The sound of the door slamming shut broke him out of his stupor and by the time Henry had returned to the real world, he was being seated down on a chair. Three intimidating witches stared down at him; a tall man, a shorter pudgier man and a woman who was slightly shorter than the tall man.

“What did you do?” The short witch demanded warningly, pointing his finger uncomfortably close to Henry’s face, “And no lying, boy!”

“I-I didn’t-“Henry stammered out, his eyes starting to water as his brain slowly processed through the shock. “I don’t know! “

“I said no lying!” The short man barked aggressively, inching his finger closer to Henry who shrank further into his chair, “Start talking! Where did you learn blood magic?!”

“Harold, calm yourself!” The woman hissed loudly, “You’re scaring the boy.”

“Calm myself? You’re asking me to calm down when there is someone here who used the accursed blood magic.” The short man growled, grabbing Henry’s wrist and brandishing the pentagram, “If you haven’t figured already, he has the mark!”

“You’re also forgetting that he’s just a young boy.” The woman rebuked with equal aggression, “If you’re only going to make the boy cry, I suggest you leave the questioning to the more stable minded.”

Harold opened his mouth to argue with the woman, but the tall witch intervened before the argument could escalate.

“Harold, you are overreacting. Stand down immediately.” The tall man warned, “Let Abigail handle the boy.”

The woman, Abigail sent the tall witch a thankful look before looking down at Henry, “I’m going to ask a few questions, boy. I expect you to answer them.”

When Henry nodded shakily, she proceeded with her interrogation.

“What is your name?”

“H-Henry Ross, ma’am.”

“How old are you?”

“F-Fourteen. I’m fourteen.”

Abigail hummed to herself thoughtfully, tapping a finger against her chin, “That makes you the age of joining a coven.” She paused, “Or at least, you would’ve been if we had not discovered the mark.”

Henry’s gaze fell down to the floor, anxiety and guilt welling up in his chest, “What does the mark mean?”

“You don’t know?” Henry shook his head in reply, “That pentagram on your arm marks you as a blood witch. Do you know what a blood witch is?”

He didn’t but he had a sneaking suspicion of what it is.

“A witch that uses blood magic.” The woman’s gaze became stern at stating this, “Magic that is forbidden to all witches, lest they want to be persecuted by both witches and witch hunters. Did you know that blood magic is forbidden, Henry?”

“Not until now.” Henry admitted, anxiously rubbing his marked arm.

 “Are we going to dance around the much more important questions or are we going to get a move on?” Harold snapped impatiently, crossing his arms.

“I swear I haven’t done anything though!” Henry cried.

“Liar!” Harold lashed out, taking a step closer to Henry, “Nobody does blood magic without knowing what they’re doing. The mark does not lie.”

“Harold, hold your tongue before I cut it off you!” Abigail hissed at the shorter witch before turning to Henry, “But he is not wrong. Blood magic cannot be accidentally done, the spells for them are always with purpose. You must’ve read the spell for it somewhere and committed blood magic. Henry, have you read any spell books recently?”

 Henry wanted to scream over and over again that he had never read any spell books. His parents hid their spell books from him, deeming that once he joined a coven, he would be given access to them. Most books he had read in the past were only fictional novels as well.

Henry wanted out of here. He wanted to go back home to where his parents were and find Joey, so his best friend could make all this trouble go away.

When the three witches saw that Henry wasn’t likely to speak any time soon, they resigned from the interrogation, Harold being the most reluctant to let Henry go.

“Abigail, go call for the Ross. They’ll need to know that their son has been partaking blood magic.”

Henry’s parents did not take long to arrive. As soon as Abigail had contacted them, they hurried over to the witch’s gathering and retrieved him from the event. The way back home was far too uncomfortable for Henry’s liking. He didn’t miss the fact that neither of his parents would look at him and whenever they did, it was fleeting and brief. Henry tried his best not to be upset by it.

The next morning, Henry was predictably confronted by his parents.

“So,” His father began, “Care to explain why you have the blood mark on you, Henry?”

“I… They think I did blood magic.”

“When did you do it?” His father pressed with a gentle tone, “We’re not angry at you, Henry. We’re more concerned with why you know it.”

“I don’t know it though.” Henry quietly answered, shaking his head in denial, “I never did any magic except for my drawings. You guys don’t even let me read the spell books in the house.”

Henry’s parents glanced at each other.

“Henry, do you remember when the mark appeared?” His mother asked.

Henry frowned at the question and glanced down at the mark on his arm. He hadn’t honestly thought much about it since he could recall it being there. The first time it appeared, he had been…

 “Joey.” Henry breathed sharply, eyes growing wide with realization.

“What?” His parents shot him a strange look. “What did Joey do?”

“I was with Joey.” Henry recounted, running his fingers through his hair as memories played through his head. “He- I drew something. A star or something. Circles too-“

Henry was rambling now, faded old memories slowly becoming clearer as he ransacked his head for details, “And a book. A black jar- And we gave it our blood-“

 “Henry, slow down!” His father shouted in alarm, “Get ahold of yourself!”

When Henry managed to calm himself enough, his parents let out a relieved sigh. “Now start from the beginning Henry. What did Joey and you do?”

“… Have you ever heard of ‘The Illusion of Living?”

**Author's Note:**

> **"Oh, Henry. What has he done to you?"**


End file.
